


everything i ask for

by bageldiscourse



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, at the end this got sappier than i planned but who's surprised tbh, seriously there is like. barely any plot in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 04:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17114450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bageldiscourse/pseuds/bageldiscourse
Summary: Summer rolls around all too soon following the Rangers’ decidedly disappointing season, and the three of them get a few weeks to spend together before they all go home to see their families. An early summer isn’t a completely awful thing, all things considered—it means Kevin drags them out sightseeing around the city more, and Jimmy calls his mom more than once every week or two, and Brady can leave hickeys all over both his boys without having to take into account whether or not their suit jackets will cover all the marks.Like right now, for instance: there’s a bright purple mark forming low on the left side of Kevin’s neck, right above his collarbone, and Brady wants to get his mouth on it bad.Brady’s never been one to deny himself the things he wants; this is no exception.(Or: one domino drops, and the rest fall along with it.The same phenomenon happens in bed, Kevin quickly learns.)





	everything i ask for

**Author's Note:**

> well folks it's been a hot minute but she's back on her rangers roommates bullshit.
> 
> let's get some things out of the way before we start:  
> 1) try and convince me kevin patrick hayes is a top? you can't.  
> 2) none of brady's made-up college friends were harmed in the making of this fic  
> 3) from this moment on i am committing myself to titling all my fics after the maine songs; this one is named after "everything i ask for," obviously. a bop.  
> 4) again i just cannot overstate how important Noted Bottom Kevin Hayes is to me
> 
> thank you + enjoy.

It goes like this—

 

 

After dating Brady and Jimmy for a full year, Kevin has no doubt that he’s never been happier with the state of his sex life—which, really, is just to say that he’s having it, regularly, with the two people he loves, and that’s more than enough for him.

There just happens to be one _very_ small, itty-bitty exception that’s really not as big a deal as the amount of thinking Kevin does about it would lead you to believe.

And that’s the fact that Kevin has never been fucked.

See—he’s had a fair amount of sex in his life, and every ex he’s had always assumed he didn’t want to bottom. There was no reason for Brady and Jimmy to be any different, and for a long time, that worked just fine for Kevin.

But that was over a year ago, and maybe his preferences have changed since then. Every once in awhile, Kevin thinks about the first time he fucked Brady; he thinks of the moment he saw on Brady’s face that it stopped hurting and started feeling _good_ , the pleased noises he’d made as he shut his eyes and lost himself in it; after some time Kevin realized that he _wants_ that.

Really, it was only a matter of time after that before it all came to a head.

 

Objectively, there’s no reason why Kevin wouldn’t be able to just ask for what he wants, because he’s a big boy and he knows how to use his words—everywhere but in bed, apparently. The only reason he’s convinced himself to not say anything about it is because they’ve been having sex long enough to have developed a routine that’s easy and familiar. And he doesn’t want to just change all that out of the blue because he’d been thinking about—

About getting fucked.

Whatever.

As the season winds down to an end it’s easy to let the thought fall to the back of his mind, focus on getting as close to winning games as they’ll be able to get, and he doesn’t even really think about it for awhile until the summer starts.

 

Summer rolls around all too soon following the Rangers’ decidedly disappointing season, and the three of them get a few weeks to spend together before they all go home to see their families. An early summer isn’t a completely awful thing, all things considered—it means Kevin drags them out sightseeing around the city more, and Jimmy calls his mom more than once every week or two, and Brady can leave hickeys all over both his boys without having to take into account whether or not their suit jackets will cover all the marks.

Like right now, for instance: there’s a bright purple mark forming low on the left side of Kevin’s neck, right above his collarbone, and Brady wants to get his mouth on it _bad_.

(Brady’s never been one to deny himself the things he wants; this is no exception.)

It’s mid-afternoon, late enough that the sun has started to set; there’s soft light streaming in through the open windows of the living room, and Brady has already begun to lay Kevin out on the couch and kiss him everywhere he can reach without taking off Kevin’s shirt or sweats just yet.

“Shit, Brady, could you . . .” Kevin says, breathing hard and already messed up, all from Brady’s mouth alone. He looks over to Jimmy, on his left, and he’s met with Jimmy’s reddened lips, swollen from biting them as his attention remained on the book in his lap. Jimmy never looks up.

“Hmm?” Brady says, pulling away.

“Can you—uh,” Kevin says, his cheeks coloring further. “I want, just . . .”

And God, it should be embarrassing, it _is_ embarrassing, but he almost doesn’t care when he’s so desperate to get off. Almost.

He shakes his head, tries to get Brady to drop it. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Brady gently pushes.

He doesn’t meet Brady’s equally concerned gaze when he says “Fuck me,” but the sentiment is adequately conveyed nonetheless; when he does look up, Brady’s expression has changed from intrigue to pure possessiveness, his eyes already dark and blown with lust. There’s no doubt in his mind that Jimmy’s reaction is the same. “That—that’s what I want.”

“Of course.” Brady’s smiling, which is about as good a reaction as Kevin could have hoped for. “You wanna go right now?” Brady asks, though they both know the answer to that question before he finishes it. Kevin’s still waiting for Brady to start to laugh at him, or leave, or provide any other indication he’s not on board with this—but it never comes, so.

“Yeah, please, I need it,” Kevin says in a rush, not bothering with being shy about it anymore.

Brady grins, satisfied. “Bedroom, come on. I’ll be right there.”

Kevin nods, but as soon as he tries to turn around he sees Brady bend down and whisper something in Jimmy’s ear, and he feels frozen in place, almost, trying to eavesdrop on their brief conversation.

Brady and Jimmy get up a moment later, and Kevin follows them down the hall, though they don’t make it far before Brady gets his hands on Kevin again, backing him against a wall and kissing down his neck as Kevin turns into putty in his grip. In the middle of their dimly lit hallway Jimmy works off the buttons of Kevin’s shirt once Brady pulls away, and Kevin makes an embarrassing, breathy noise when his shirt hits the floor and Jimmy sucks a bruise into his collarbone. Instinctively, he tips his head back to give Jimmy more space to work with, and Jimmy wastes no time littering his neck with kisses—and if the faint sting of them is any indication, a good majority of them are going to leave marks tomorrow morning. Jimmy slots his thigh in between Kevin’s legs and lets Kevin rub off on it for a little while, if only for idle friction where he needs it most right now.

“Babe, you gotta stop, or I’m gonna come, like, right now,” Kevin says, though his eyes are still shut, his mouth fallen open, and he doesn’t stop his steady movements against Jimmy’s leg.

“Kind of the point,” Jimmy smirks, but he does as he’s told and pulls away, disappearing into the bedroom without another word.

By the time the three of them make it to the bed, Kevin’s clad in only his boxers and Brady is well on his way there; Jimmy backs Kevin into the bed and then lets Kevin get comfortable against a few pillows by the headboard before settling into the space between Kevin’s spread thighs. He adjusts Kevin’s position so his feet are planted on the bed and and slicks his fingers up. He looks up, noticing Kevin’s expression of uncertainty, and says, “Relax. You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Kevin says, the deliberate bite of self-deprecation in his voice more than clear. “Come on, yeah, I’m ready,” he says a second later, when Jimmy hasn’t moved.

Jimmy works the first finger in easy, and all Kevin registers is the vaguely odd feeling of it as Jimmy strokes it around his rim, slides in and out slowly. “This okay?”

“It’s good,” Kevin says, so after a minute Jimmy eases in a second alongside the first, and immediately Kevin tenses up.

“Fuck,” he says, a gasp he lets slip out without really meaning to. He wants to stop and start over and get past this feeling and get to when it starts to feel _good_ , he wants to disappear completely, honestly—

Jimmy stills, looking down at him concerned. “We can stop,” he says. “If you want.”

“No, it’s . . . I just wasn’t ready. Too fast. You can keep going.”

“You sure?” Jimmy asks. Kevin nods, because he’s too far along to give up now.

With two fingers still inside Kevin, Jimmy leans down and kisses him. It’s not the best angle in the world, but it serves its purpose and helps Kevin get out of his own head nonetheless. For a minute after he pulls away it looks like Jimmy thinks about saying something, but the moment passes and he says nothing and goes back to focusing on stretching Kevin open.

It’s hard to distinguish the exact moment Kevin goes from feeling discomfort to pleasure, outside of Jimmy turning his wrist just _so_ until he gets an audible reaction out of him. Jimmy hits his prostate once, twice, and it’s overwhelming, Kevin fisting the bedsheets and moaning a little louder than he’s proud of.

“Good?” Jimmy asks, a rhetorical question if there’s ever been one, because there’s no way he doesn’t know that Kevin is, in fact, extremely into this.

“Would be better if you went faster,” Kevin mutters, though the last of the sentence falls impressively flat when Jimmy slips in a third slicked finger.

Jimmy works up a faster rhythm with his fingers, moves until he has Kevin shaking, a little, arching his back off the bed and begging for more, _more._ ~~~~

Once Jimmy’s satisfied with his work he pulls out, abrupt, and wipes off the excess lube on his sweats.

“Shit, come on, don’t _stop_ ,” Kevin says, his voice almost a whine and sounding just this side of needy, and Jimmy absolutely loves it.

“We can’t have you coming before he fucks you, right?” Jimmy hums, as if it’s obvious. “I think you’re ready. Tell him what you want, babe,” he says, low in his throat and _shit_ , so hot—Kevin doesn’t trust himself to be able to form a complete thought about anything but the tone of Jimmy’s voice, thick with lust.

“You _know_ what I want,” Kevin says, petulant, his voice hardly above a mumble because he wishes Brady would just get _on_ with it already.

Brady takes a minute to undress all the way while Jimmy lies next to him, planting a kiss in his hair and murmurs something about how he’s too stubborn for his own good. “Sure I do.” Brady’s settling in between Kevin’s legs now, rolling the condom on and looking down at him with a smirk. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

While maintaining eye contact Brady dips down with one hand and pushes two fingers into him, just to test for a reaction out of him, and the breathy moan Kevin lets out is music to his ears. “Shit, okay, fuck me, please, please,” Kevin says, hardly finding it in him to care that he’s rambling, a little. Begging, even, though he’d never admit to it.

His expression when he finally meets Brady’s expectant gaze is an impatient one, and it’s the slightest bit vulnerable, underneath the surface of it. Brady leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and says, “Yeah, okay. I got you.”

He pushes Kevin’s legs apart a little more and lifts him up by his hips, and he pushes in slowly in one swift motion—not too much all at once, but enough for Kevin’s face to twist into a distinct grimace. Brady pauses, waits for his breathing to steady to continue.

By all means, it should be intimidating, letting himself be this vulnerable, and it _would_ be if it were anyone else with him for this, but it’s Brady and Jimmy, so it’s the easiest thing in the world to resist his instinctual urge to hide his face under a pillow and give up on the whole thing before it’s even begun. Jimmy has a hand threaded in his hair, and Kevin tries to focus on something other than the slight stretch and ache of it, the awkward angle he’s been manipulated into.

“Okay,” Kevin says after a minute passes and he thinks he’s used to the feel of being so full. “Just—slowly.”

Brady nods and does exactly that: pushes into him impossibly slowly, a little at a time until he bottoms out, letting out this provocative moan low in his throat at the way Kevin feels under him. He hitches Kevin’s hips a generous inch more off the bed before he starts to really fuck him, rocking into him slowly at first so Kevin has a chance to adjust to the feeling.

“Fuck, _Brady_ ,” Kevin says, breathing hard as his eyes fall shut and he grinds down onto Brady’s hips without thinking about it.

“You like that, yeah?” Jimmy says, biting his lip as he watches. Brady’s still going slow, but he’s angled his thrusts so he’s hitting Kevin’s prostate with every few snaps of his hips, and it’s—a lot.

Tentatively, Brady speeds up after a few minutes, starts really fucking him with harder, solid thrusts that have Kevin panting and unsuccessfully trying to bite down noises that Brady’s pulling out of him. And Kevin can’t get enough of it, his whole world boiling down to the small bubble of their bedroom—of Brady’s bruising kisses along his neck as he keeps up his unforgiving movements and Jimmy’s gentle touch in his hair, of the heady, almost overwhelming feeling of it all happening for the first time and almost certainly not the last.

In the end Kevin comes embarrassingly fast, spilling onto his own stomach and a little on Brady’s, too. He’s breathing too hard and feeling too _good_ to feel guilty about it, though, which he figures in hindsight was for the best.

Brady pulls out, admiring his work below him before getting up to get rid of the condom. When he walks back and Kevin has properly comes to, Brady’s smirking a little, and Kevin wants to regain the upper hand in this situation. “You should come on me,” he says, and he doesn’t miss Jimmy’s sharp inhale from next to him.

“Jesus,” Brady mumbles, his cheeks heating up at the idea of messing Kevin up like that. “Okay, yeah.” He doesn’t waste time with it, sitting up on his knees and getting a hand on his dick, and hardly a minute passes before he comes, adding to the mess on Kevin’s stomach.

Kevin brushes his hair out of his eyes as Brady makes himself comfortable next to him and says, “Was that as good as you were hoping?”

Kevin opens his mouth to say something snarky, something like _it wasn’t the worst thing in the world_ but in the end he settles on “Better,” and hopes it doesn’t sound too soft.

“Agreed,” Jimmy says, still fully clothed—which, what the _fuck_ , needs to be fixed immediately.

Kevin has always felt strongly about saving the environment, so in order to save water he drags Jimmy into the shower with him. As he goes down on Jimmy, Kevin passively considers that they should probably move into a proper house so they don’t have neighbors on all sides of their thin walls that could hear every noise Jimmy makes as he comes gradually closer to orgasm.

But that’s a conversation for later, he rations.

 

(And, okay—it’s not that nobody told him he _shouldn’t_ like this as much as he does, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he shouldn’t, anyway.

But God, does he like it—despite having a couple inches on Brady and Jimmy, he _likes_ being held down and taken apart and then put right back together, likes feeling the weight of Brady on top of him. Likes that Brady gets a little rough with him when they do this, a side of him Kevin doesn’t really see much off the ice.

He finds it hard to think about anything else, after that first time. Just—little associations in his brain, like how he can’t look at the way Jimmy’s wrist flicks when he flips omelettes in the morning anymore, or how Brady will always have a possessive hand around his waist, or his shoulder, and Kevin will feel the weight of it on his skin and just _want_.)

 

Their second time is not much different from the first time, in that they’re going through the same motions and Kevin’s much less tense this time; if anything, it’s a little easier, because he knows what to expect out of it and he’s used to the feeling from the get-go.

As Brady takes him apart slowly, Kevin digs blunt fingers into Brady’s shoulders and the curve of his back hard enough to mark and finds that this time, the less he tries to subdue his moans, the harder and better Brady will fuck him, the more into it he’ll be.

Brady and Jimmy make dinner together after they’ve cleaned up, and while they eat Kevin finds it impossible to sit still because that’s Brady’s hand settling high on his thigh, warm and steadying and completely distracting, unfortunately.

They’re talking about nothing important in particular, and after a point Kevin spaces out, a little, because there’s nothing indicating that it’s something urgent and because it’s a lot easier to focus on Brady, biting his bottom lip as he listens to Jimmy talk.

Vaguely, he registers Jimmy saying something to him—asking him about something, maybe—but he can’t bring himself to focus on what exactly he’s saying, not when he can feel Brady’s gaze on him and his hand on him too.

“Sorry.” Kevin blinks once, twice. “What?”

“I asked if you want to watch a movie with us later.”

“Oh—yeah, sure.”

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, of course,” Kevin says, but it’s unconvincing. “Just . . . distracted, a little.”

Jimmy nods, and drops it. They finish eating quick enough that when they’re done Kevin’s still bouncing his leg, just trying to blow off steam and calm himself down, and Brady has to give him a _look_ to get him to finally sit still. Jimmy left to shower not long ago, so it’s just the two of them sitting in silence, save for the hum of the heater and the background noise of the bedroom TV they left on.

“You really wanna go again, don’t you,” Brady finally says, a knowing smirk plastering his face. “Look at you, you’re desperate for it.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, a little dazed with how much he really does want that. “Yeah, I am,” and that’s all the invitation Brady needs to guide him up and in the direction of the living room couch, because he doubts they could make it all the way to the bedroom, honestly.

“You think you could take it right here?” Brady asks, his voice dropping low, and everything around Kevin slows to a stop, everything except Brady’s hand on his leg and his hand working through Kevin’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah, please,” Kevin says, as Brady pushes his boxers down to his knees, enough to be able to trail slow kisses all the way down to his hips.

Kevin turns around and bends over the couch when Brady looks back up from rolling on a condom, as if they no longer need verbal instruction to know what the other’s about to say, and it’s—nice, to say the least, that they’ve made it to this point in what feels like no time at all.

It takes some effort to push into him at first, but it hasn’t been too long since he’s been fucked, so Brady’s willing to bet the high and pleased noise Kevin makes when he bottoms out is one more of pleasure than pain.

Kevin lets his head fall in between his shoulders, making these gorgeous noises as Brady fucks him fast and a little sloppy. He doesn’t shut up for more than a minute at a time, stream-of-consciousness rambles about how good he feels.

Brady pulls out right as Kevin comes, miraculously spilling entirely onto the throw blanket and not on the couch at all. Brady makes a mental note to tell Jimmy more often how much he appreciates his knack for interior design.

Jimmy walks into the room just as they finish, and doesn’t even look up from his phone as he heads over to sit on the opposite side of the couch. Brady throws the blanket in the direction of the staircase leading down to the laundry room and Kevin drops onto the couch and rests his head in Jimmy’s lap, looking up at him with a dazed half-smile. Jimmy hunts for the remote and turns a movie on before they all become completely useless, and the three of them watch in silence, Jimmy stroking Kevin’s hair as Kevin slowly falls asleep.

 

For the week of his birthday, Brady flies back home to Minnesota to spend time with family and catch up with friends. Since Jimmy and Kevin have nothing to do that week, they meet him there the day before his birthday.

Two days into the trip, they go out to dinner with two of Brady’s friends from college and Kevin is, in all definitions of the word, a mess.

It shouldn’t _bother_ him that Brady’s friends give him long hugs that linger a moment too long and then immediately fall into easy conversation him as if he never left. Brady sits with his two friends on one side of the table, Kevin and Jimmy on the other. One of the guys puts his arm over Brady’s shoulder, and really, Kevin has no reason to feel self-conscious about them, but here he is anyway, scowling a little as he starts eating his pasta. He tries to push the thought out of his mind, which ends up doing less good than was intended; he’s zoned out nearly the entire meal, looking dazed, constantly asking everyone to repeat themselves and giving one-word answers even after the fact, and always staring at Jimmy’s hands.

And he _fidgets_ , impossibly restless, bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers; Brady and Jimmy pick up on that much early, and while Brady goes the route of leaving him to get his own shit together, Jimmy decides it could be worthwhile to have some fun with it.

One of Brady’s friends is talking about his summer travels and Jimmy rests his hand high on Kevin’s thigh, warm and steadying and completely distracting. Immediately Kevin stills underneath him, and his breath hitches slightly—just loud enough where you’d notice if you were looking for it, if Jimmy’s satiated smirk is any indication.

That in and of itself would have been enough to properly set Kevin on edge—and it _was_ —but Jimmy doesn’t stop there. When Kevin reaches over to the side of the table to grab a sugar packet for his coffee, his shirt rides up his stomach and leaves skin in between his shirt and sweats exposed, and Jimmy takes the opportunity to rub feather-light circles into his hip. Kevin turns to look at Jimmy, and Jimmy _has_ to know he’s driving him absolutely crazy, what feels like all the blood in his entire fucking body rushing to his dick just from his touches, heady and absolutely unfair if he’s not going to do anything else about it.

He manages to make it through dinner without embarrassing himself, though it’s a close one. Brady drives them home, and they greet his parents as quickly as possible without making a scene of it; as soon as they step through the door Kevin can’t help but say, “God, this is your _childhood_ bedroom, isn’t it.”

“Sure is,” Brady says, and he’s _grinning_ , the asshole.

Kevin thinks about making a comment about how this is maybe the least sexy thing that’s ever happened to him, but he decidedly has other things on his mind, so he drops it and lets Brady pull him into a rough kiss.

Brady continues to kiss him as he undoes the buttons on Kevin’s flannel. Once he gets it off he sucks a hickey underneath Kevin’s jaw and says, “You wanna tell me why you couldn’t behave yourself today?”

“I just . . .” Kevin says, trying to come up with a way of explaining his jealousy that doesn’t make him seem completely pathetic; after a minute he comes to terms with the fact that it _is_ a little pathetic, and he should just be honest about it. “It was—your friends, they’re so _handsy_ , I just couldn’t—”

“Hold on,” Brady says. “Were you _jealous_?” He looks like he wants to laugh about it, but he doesn’t, instead holding Kevin’s gaze steadily until his reply comes.

“I mean, yeah,” Kevin says, though he realizes how ridiculous it sounds as soon as he says so.

“You’re out of your mind, babe,” Brady says, working at the button and zipper of Kevin’s jeans. “Out of your fucking mind.”

He stops once Kevin is down to his boxers, and Kevin whines. “Come on, don’t stop, _Brady_. Fuck me, please.”

Brady pretends to think about it for a split-second, and then says, “Why don’t you blow him first, and then I’ll give you what you want.”

“Yeah, you gonna get on your knees for me, baby?” Jimmy coos, and it’s borderline obscene, how easy he does exactly that.

Kevin has done this so many times he could do it in his sleep—he knows the way Jimmy likes it, hot and wet and a little sloppy.

“Fucking love your mouth, babe,” Jimmy says in between choppy breaths as Kevin sucks him off. He’s threaded a hand in Kevin’s hair, and it sounds like a wild, far off thought, but Kevin thinks he could come from this alone, even without touching himself.

He doesn’t, though; Jimmy comes a few minutes later, and then takes him to the bed and fingers him open lazily, as if Kevin hadn’t just straight-up _begged_ to be fucked not ten minutes ago.

By the time Brady slips into him, Kevin feels heavy and a little overwhelmed with the feeling of him. “You know you’re my boy, yeah?” Brady says, his voice low and his hands possessive and touching Kevin’s hips, his thighs, everywhere he knows Kevin’s sensitive spots are. “Nobody else gets to see you like this, just the two of us . . . shit, baby, you know you’re the only one I want to do this with.”

Kevin comes embarassingly fast, and Brady tackles him down with kisses until they’re too tired to do anything more than share the same breaths.

 

Jimmy is asleep on one side of Kevin, Brady scrolling through Instagram on his other, and Kevin asks, “Did you mean—what you said earlier? All of it?”

Brady presses a kiss into Kevin’s shoulder and says, “Of course I did.”

“Happy birthday,” Kevin says quietly into the dark air, because it has to be past midnight by now. And then, belatedly, he realizes: “I didn’t—get you anything.”

“I don’t want anything,” Brady replies immediately. “Just you two.”

Kevin lets a beat pass between them, Brady’s words hanging heavy in the space between them, and then Brady says, “I’m really glad you guys came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world.”

 

The three of them like to take pictures, sometimes. Of Kevin, mostly, when he’s sprawled out on the bed about to be fucked and his eyes fall shut, the flush of his shoulders and the messy marks on the underside of his jaw.

It’s the times they get to take it slow that they’ll do this, like today, with Jimmy out of town to spend his birthday with family back home. It’s early morning and they haven’t gotten out of bed, any chance of that lost to Brady sticking a knee in between Kevin’s legs and letting him rut against his thigh because it’s nice to hear the lazy, pleased noises he makes when they have all the time in the world.

Today, though, what little Brady gives him isn’t _enough_.

And Kevin’s not about to say he’s _never_ been so obnoxiously needy in bed, but he certainly doesn’t get like this very often, so he’s willing to cut himself some slack for how fast he gets hard and impatient from just Brady’s leg in between Kevin’s and from Brady’s mouth on his neck.

Brady takes his time with getting anywhere, though, presses rough kisses from Kevin’s jaw down to his collarbone and continues down his stomach until he’s breathing sharply and slurring his words a little as he begs for Brady to fuck him, completely shameless and like nothing Brady’s ever seen out of him before.

“Brady, please, please,” he keeps saying, his voice high-pitched and almost a whine.

And as enticing as the thought is to give him what he wants right now, he decides he’s going to make Kevin wait for it.

Brady leans over to grab his phone from the bedside table. “You look so pretty like this, you know,” he says, runs a hand through Kevin’s hair as he snaps a photo—in it, the new hickey blooming on Kevin’s neck meets his shoulder, above his collarbone, and the possessive hand Brady has in Kevin’s hair is barely in frame, too—to send to Jimmy later. “How about you wait, huh? Just until tonight.”

Before Kevin can complain, Brady leans down and says, “Up,” tugging his boxer-briefs over his hips and all the way off. “Don’t come,” he says, and then sucks him off until Kevin’s fisting a hand in Brady’s hair and on the verge of coming.

“Jesus,” Kevin mutters, as Brady licks precome and saliva off his lips and leans up to kiss him once, almost as if to make Kevin taste _himself_.

“There’s my good boy,” Brady grins. “Promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

 

That night, Jimmy gets home when Brady and Kevin are playing video games in the bedroom, and the front door opens and shuts so quietly they almost don’t hear him walk in.

“What are we playing?” Jimmy asks, from the doorway. He watches as they both look up and the initial shock in their faces are replaced with undeniable happiness. Brady shuts the TV off, as Jimmy walks over to the bed.

“You’re home early,” Brady says, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He wasn’t expecting Jimmy for another two days. He leans up to meet Jimmy for a kiss, because it’s been too long since he’s last gotten to.

Jimmy shrugs, once they pull away. “It was too easy to catch the first flight home this morning, especially after the show you two put on for me this morning.”

At that Kevin blushes pale, looking up at Jimmy almost expectant, waiting for him to tell him what to do.

Taking his time, Jimmy sits on the bed. “You wanna sit in my lap?” he says to Kevin, as more of a command than a question.

Kevin _really_ does, and so he moves to straddle his hips and kisses him, a little desperate. He tries to rub off against Jimmy’s pants, just for the friction, but Jimmy pulls away from him after a few minutes.

He can feel his orgasm coming, already so close, doesn’t need much more to push him over the edge. “Please,” he says, “Jimmy, I’m gonna—”

Jimmy says nothing, runs a hand through his hair, grounding and unhurried. Kevin lets Jimmy kiss him, mouth open and pliant; he really doesn’t think he’ll last much longer like this, honestly, his breathing heavy and his dick leaking steadily through his underwear and his cheeks flushed, this worked up from Jimmy’s mouth alone—

And then he’s coming, unceremonious and in his sweats and hardly ashamed about it because of how good it felt, how much he needed that.

Jimmy pulls Kevin into a kiss, slow, lets him lean into it as he comes down from his orgasm. “You wanted it that bad, huh?”

“Jimmy,” Kevin says, almost a whine and not quite an answer but it suffices to convey how he’s feeling well enough.

“I think you’re gonna have to wait if you want another,” Jimmy continues, thoughtful.

He hums, runs a hand lightly, slowly down Kevin’s stomach until Kevin’s shuddering with it, overstimulated.

“My turn?” Kevin hears Brady say from somewhere behind him.

“All yours, babes,” Jimmy replies, and lays Kevin carefully on the bed, letting Brady slide in the open space between his thighs.

Without meaning anything of it, Brady’s hand lands on the waistband of Kevin’s sweats as he leans down for a kiss, and Kevin tries canting his hips up, just for some pressure where he wants it. Brady doesn’t give him the satisfaction of it, though, pulls his hand away.

Kevin honest-to-God _whimpers_ , frustrated and still so turned on he has to actually remind himself to breathe steadily. “Are you just going to watch, or could you help me out here—”

“What if I like watching you like this?” Jimmy counters, tugging Kevin’s sweatpants and boxers down below his hips, Brady handing him the bottle of lube. “So needy and desperate,” he continues, just trying to work Kevin up a little more. “Already came in your pants, you gonna be good for us this time?”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, in between one breath and the next. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good boy,” Jimmy says, and then he slicks up two of his fingers. He eases them into Kevin slowly, though Kevin’s breath stutters nonetheless. Once he’s three fingers in, Brady wraps a hand loosely around Kevin’s dick, and a few strokes is all it takes for Kevin to come all over himself, into Brady’s hand and adding to the mess on his stomach for what feels like forever as curses and moans spill from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Brady says, admiring the mess, a little.

And Jimmy—he should stop there, because the likeliness of Kevin coming a _third_ time is slim, but something in him says to keep going, a possessive streak in the back of his mind that Jimmy and Brady are the only ones who get to see Kevin like this that’s now at the forefront. And sometimes he just has to go with that instinct, especially when Kevin’s still half-hard and panting, the flush high on his cheeks fading but not completely gone—yeah, Jimmy wants to see how far he can push Kevin, wants to see how much more he can get out of him.

“You think you could come again?” Jimmy asks sweetly.

Kevin doesn’t say anything, his eyes following Jimmy’s slicked up his fingers as they gets a hand on Kevin’s dick, like he’s just looking for a reaction out of him.

“You can try for me, yeah? Just one more,” Jimmy says, patient and gentle, a complete shift from how this all started—the thought alone makes Kevin’s breath catch in his throat.

“Missed you so much,” Jimmy says, as he works up a relatively fast pace to get him off. “Missed _this_.”

Absently Kevin tries to jerk his hips into Jimmy’s touch, and this time Jimmy lets him, hums as Kevin’s hips starts to stutter after a few minutes, his cants irregular and frantic because he’s not used to getting what he wants this easy. He keeps moving, keens with it until he’s about to come again, his head tipped back. “Always so good for us,” Jimmy praises. “Look at you, you’re a mess.”

Jimmy leans up to bite at the hickey blooming on Kevin’s jaw and Kevin comes a final time, making these broken-off noises that Jimmy loves so much.

He looks more wrecked than either of them have ever seen him, but even after it all he’s looking up at Jimmy and smiling as he comes down from his orgasm.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Jimmy says, and Kevin didn’t notice that Brady left at all until he’s by his side again with a washcloth, cleaning him off gently while Jimmy strokes his hair and pulls the sheets over his hips once Brady finishes.

(Kevin wakes up the next morning in between Brady and Jimmy who are both asleep, and for a minute just—appreciates how good his life is, right now.

Because it’s pretty damn good.)

 

There’s a lot of things Kevin didn’t expect to think so much about after all this started.

Like—like the way that Brady’s hair gets so messy after they fuck, which is more endearing to him than he was ever expecting. Or the way that Jimmy craves mac and cheese after sex with impressive consistency, which is both surprising and also not at all, knowing him.

What surprised him the most, though, is that all his initial worries about changing around their routine turned out to be a classic case of him getting too far in his own head. They’ve been really great about it, so far.

He likes them both a lot, is what he’s saying.

(“I swear, I’ve never met somebody as needy in bed as you,” Jimmy says, as he’s catching his breath after Kevin blew him when they got home from practice one morning.

It’s then that Kevin thinks about saying something dumb like _I love you guys, you know_ and in an effort to convince himself not to do exactly that he goes through the reasons why that wouldn’t be the grandest idea, starting and ending with the fact that what the three of them have is _good_ , right now; things have finally left the awkward stage of not quite knowing the ins and outs of each other and they’re just starting to get good, and Kevin doesn’t want to ruin it by saying something emotional after sex.

But then again, he’d tell these boys he loves them at any time of day, any day.

So, he says, “You love me for it though, eh?”

“Obviously,” Jimmy says, fond.

“Yeah,” Kevin says. “Me too.”)

**Author's Note:**

> hey sinners if u made it this far smash that kudos and/or comment button.  
> xoxo gossip girl


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